Author: AnOpenTreasureChest

Speeding up Speed-Dating with a mid-date Handjob (30f) [FM]

“Were you optimistic enough about this evening to have deployed a tactical wank before coming out?”

It’s not, I’d wager, the opening line a guy expects to hear when he sits across a table from you to endure the five minutes of mandatory small talk during the arse-clenchingly awkward living hell that it is Speed Dating, but it rarely fails to provoke an entertaining reaction.

But, in my defence, I was bored.

If you’ve been lucky enough to avoid it, let me explain that Speed Dating is agonisingly awful. It somehow enhances all the of the dreary small talk and casual disappointment of regular dating, whilst simultaneously stripping anything even remotely enjoyable from the experience. I can only imagine it was created purely as a means to prove that, when it comes down to it, perhaps there are some circumstances in which being single and lonely is preferable to the hateful alternative.

It’s essentially a meat-market, wherein you’re first forced to engage in idle chit-chat with the tender-loin you intend to consume. And, just like at a meat-market, in most cases the potential meals would simply rather not be eaten at all. Read more »

Try before you buy – Fucking in a public fitting room (30f) [FM]

It’s an undeniable fact that a frankly worrying amount of my sex life can be summed up and/or rationalised in just four simple words;

‘Fuck it, why not?’

A key instigating factor for any sexual endeavour should be, of course, that it’s fun for all involved. This really ought to go without saying, though I do occasionally feel that some individuals need reminding. But that’s a discussion for another time. Suffice to say: Sex should be fun. If it’s not, then something has gone badly wrong somewhere down the line.

But in addition to this basic requirement, I often find myself considering a separate and almost equally important category that needs to be fulfilled;

‘Will this make for a good anecdote?’

Sex is a truly wonderful thing. I’d go as far as to say that – when it’s done well – it’s quite simply one of the most enjoyable and satisfying things that it’s possible to do. But it’s also fleeting. It’s a firework. Burns bright briefly and then is over. The duration is finite – 10 minutes if you’re unlucky, 40 minutes if you’re lucky and an entire weekend if you can cope with the Sting (which is, very possibly, the worst joke I’ve ever written – and it’s up against some stiff competition). Once the physical act is over what you have left is the memory. Hopefully a good one. But the best memories are the ones that are *shared*. To share a memory is, to a degree, to relive it – or at least the nearest your mind can create. Read more »

Two friends take on one cock. And I got competitive. (30f) [FFM]

Let me preface this particular recollection by pointing out that I’m a competitive soul. Stupidly so. Driven to win at all costs, sometimes even to my own detriment. I’m entirely self aware of this – some may argue – crippling flaw, but self awareness does nothing to prevent my competitive urge striking. If there’s an opportunity to ‘win’ (and sometimes even when the very notion of winning is subjective at best) then I will do pretty much whatever it takes to achieve victory.

It’s one of the (many) reasons why I decided to give up ever accepting dares – for the good of my own sanity.

I also, for better or worse, have always seen sex as something of a competition. Which isn’t to say it’s a race, far from it. But it has an objective. The aim is to make the other person achieve orgasm. And if there’s an aim, there’s a victory. It’s a completion in every sense of the word.

Philosophy out of the way, let’s get stuck in. Read more »

An over eager Uber blowjob (30f) [FM]

The old adage that ‘a pleasure delayed is a pleasure enhanced’ is undeniably accurate. Anticipation can be the world’s most powerful and underrated aphrodisiac and, if given enough time to develop and properly percolate, can lead to explosive and unforgettable sexual experiences.

And sometimes instead you find yourself entirely unwilling to resist temptation, and end up blowing a guy in the back of an Uber, in full view of a visibly conflicted driver.

This particular anecdote is very much an example of the latter.

The specifics of how I came to find myself in such a position are largely superfluous, though in hindsight it perhaps speaks volumes that while I can’t for the life of me recall the name of the guy in question, I *do* remember that the driver was called Angus.

For those who require context, the guy and I had met earlier in the evening in a theatre bar. He gatecrashed a conversation between myself and some friends wherein I was slagging off the show whilst they were arguing it was a spectacle worthy of the second coming. He interrupted to agree with me. For what it’s worth, I didn’t *need* his support as my own argument was irrefutable, but his bravery to intrude combined with his incredibly alluring eyes pretty much ensured he was getting lucky from the outset. Read more »

Getting lucky in Las Vegas – in PUBLIC (30f) [FM]

Hen parties and hotels (or bachelorette parties and motels if you’re across the pond and/or aren’t a fan of alliteration) tend to be something of a dangerous combination. Home-spun hen parties can obviously still be wild and lurid affairs, but the locality and fact there’s always the prospect of ending up back in your own bed at the end of the evening does tend to gravitate proceedings toward the marginally less raucous outing. As a great philosopher once said ‘One does not shit in one’s own back yard’, after all.

When a hen party is combined with a night or indeed, god forbid, an entire weekend away however, the world becomes your oyster. Distance represents not only both literal and metaphorical freedom, but also distance from *consequences.*

Aka. What happens on a hen party, stays on a hen party.

All of which is why, when my dear friend Kaytee (Yes, that really is how it’s spelt. Yes, it’s utterly ridiculous as I tell her every time I’ve ever found myself writing it down. Yes, I even messaged her as I was writing this to comment on its ludicrousness. And yes, I’ve had *stern* words with her parents on multiple occasions) decided to tie the knot, myself and six other friends immediately made the decision to spend far more money than was sensible to indulge in just about the most cliched hen party you can imagine. Read more »

“I’ll blow a guy for every goal we score…” (We won 4-0) (30f) [Group]

I am, perhaps unsurprisingly, not much of a football fan. And to clarify several things from the outset; by football I mean soccer for those of a transatlantic persuasion, and by ‘not much’ I mean I regard it with roughly the same level of disinterest as crochet, pingpong, or the literary works of E.L. James.

I’ve always considered myself to be too much a cynic and pessimistic soul to really get behind any sporting enthusiasm. If anything I’d argue it’s the more rational approach – If you expect your team to lose then it’s surely twice as exciting if they manage to secure a victory, meanwhile a loss is – to badly cross some sporting similes – par for the course.

Such are my startling levels of ignorance in footballing matters, I’d managed to completely miss that there was an international competition in progress for quite a staggeringly long time. Indeed, the first I heard of our national team’s surprising progression through the competition was when I was informed in no uncertain terms by a group of friends that we were going to participate in something otherwise unheard of within our friendship circle. Heading out to a bar to *watch a game of football*. Read more »

Wanking off a stranger DURING my friend’s wedding (30f) [FM]

I was 22 and in my first year of freedom from university. Precisely at the stage wherein the more casual of friends you’ve spent the previous three years with start drifting away, and you focus on the ‘core group’ of people you want to keep in your life. It’s also the year when the incredibly over-eager couples who somehow managed to remain together over those three years inexplicably all decide to get married.

I already attended two weddings that year. By the time the third and final wedding came around it was already widely known that the first was already close to ending. As such I was suitably jaded and happy to attend simply out of loyalty to a friend I’d probably not see again until someone suggested a reunion in twenty years time, principally for the food and opportunity to consume vast amounts of alcohol.

Weddings are always sexually charged events for singletons. There’s a sense that anyone available is just waiting for the formality of the early day to be over so you can start making your selections come the evening party. You’ve just got to get through the tedium of the ‘magical day’ first. Read more »

Pinned down and pounded by my best friend’s ex (30f) [FM]

Is it just me, or is *discussing* sex practically the very next best thing to actually having sex? As a conversational topic it’s not only endlessly fascinating and insightful, but often tantalisingly visceral. I’m sure I can’t be alone in finding that sharing, deconstructing and reliving a sexual experience in conversation almost always becomes actively arousing?

Or perhaps I’m just a pervert.

As such, topics of sexual nature are commonplace between myself and friends. Rarely does any get together – drunken or perfectly civilised – go by without the topic turning to everyone’s recent sexploits; be it providing a running critique of a partner, sharing an anecdotal account of a spectacular failure (usually my contributions) or simply living vicariously through the second hand adventures of others.

Nothing goes unsaid. Everything is analysed and deconstructed. And a tremendously wonderful time is had by all as our respective sex lives are laid bare for analysis, comment and often gentle ribbing. Although in some cases ‘laid bare for a gentle ribbing’ very much *is* the discussion of the sex. Read more »

The Quickie and the Cum Stain (30f) [FM]

Quickies. Sexually speaking, the fastest possible route from point A to point B. Or, A to O if you’re lucky.

While it’s true that quickies very rarely offer the same levels of satisfaction as their longer and more steadily paced sexual counterparts, I must confess that I’m very much a fan of them. There’s something about the sheer urgency and immediacy of a quickie that the common or garden sexual escapade simply cannot replicate. It’s helped that, at least in my experience, it’s due to their almost entirely spontaneous nature. A quickie is the definition of leaping into an opportunity with both legs wide open, so to speak.

But, tragically, not every quickie can be the stuff dreams are made of, and embracing opportunities for spontaneous and occasionally ill-judged excitement can result in a less than satisfying conclusion.

Which brings me to this; a tonally appropriate but uncharacteristically quick anecdote about the quickie that was a little too quick.

(Is it just me, or has the word quickie lost all meaning already? I’m almost tempted to replace it with the word ‘quiche’ somewhere within this post just to see if anyone notices. You have been warned!) Read more »

Birthday double blowjob for my friend’s boyfriend (30f) [FFM]

“Alice, you find Luke attractive, don’t you?”

An innocuous enough question on the face of it, but for a few crucial factors;

Firstly, Luke was an incredibly handsome guy. Irritatingly so. If you were to draw ‘chiseled’, you’d draw Luke. This rendered it something of a rhetorical question. Of course I found Luke attractive. There couldn’t be many who wouldn’t. Which meant it was obviously a question leading somewhere.

Secondly, Luke was not a single man. Indeed, he was in a relationship of several years. Not that there’s any harm in finding a partnered up man attractive – but it did frame the question in a slightly loaded fashion.

Thirdly and perhaps most significantly; the question was being asked to me *by* his girlfriend. The very same girlfriend whom I’d been close friends with myself for longer than the pair of them had been an item. A dear friend who I knew didn’t pose highly loaded and leading questions purely for the sake of being hypothetical.

Little did I know at the time – though I do feel I immediately did suspect on some innate level – that it would ultimately lead to one of the most arse-clenchingly awkward encounters in my short but colourful life thus far. Read more »